The Carving
by PorcelainDoll304
Summary: What happens when you carve wood while talking to someone? Duncan finds out. BridgetteDuncan


**Disclaimer: **I don't own TDI.

**Pairing: **Duncan/Bridgette, Bridgette/Geoff on the side

**Title:** The Carving

**POV:** Duncan

**WARNING: **Contains Duncan with someone who is *gasp!* not Courtney-the-annoying. Personally, I cannot stand Duncan/Courtney and if you want to complain about that, go somewhere where someone will care, and that's not in my review section where complaints of the 'ZOMG Duncan wood neva luv ne1 but Courtney' variety will be fed to my Chihuahua.

**Rating: **PG-13 or TV-14

**Reason: **Language

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I'd been kicked out of the cabin for stealing wood.

_Wood _for God's sake. I mean, it's not like anyone was _using _it. The campfire was out, the wood was fully blackened – it was just going to get thrown away anyway.

But Courtney wouldn't hear my logic, as always.

"Either get rid of it, or get out of the cabin."

Both to spite her and because I wasn't getting rid of my perfectly blackened treasure, I chose the latter. Especially since I didn't want her finding out that the knife I was using had been stolen from the kitchen. Chef hated me enough.

The skull was coming out pretty good. The dim light from the cabin illuminated it just right to make it have just the right amount of eeriness, the perfect amount of menace to it. It wasn't like I really wanted to be inside anyway. They were all just being idiots, anyway – the boys were trying to flirt with the girls, and the girls were acting like they didn't notice. Someone, I think it might have been Geoff, said something horribly obscene, and Owen's loud laugh made me jump a mile, causing me to cut my finger on the knife. I watched the thick red blood pool for a minute before putting it in my mouth, sucking the blood off it. I wrinkled my nose at the metallic taste. Despite my hard-ass exterior, I've never really been too much of a fan of blood – especially the taste of it. Probably due to the many times I've been punched in the face in juvie and been forced to taste my own.

"Duncan? What are you still doing up?" I glanced up to see Bridgette standing on the steps of the cabin.

"Can't carve in my sleep, and besides, who could sleep with that noise going on?" I shrugged. Bridgette was already dressed in her sleeping clothes – a blue ¾ sleeved shirt and a pair of blue and white plaid shorts. She sat down next to me and I was surprised at how many different scents lingered her. I could smell her shampoo, some kind of vanilla-fruity mixture, some soap that smelled a bit like strawberries, spearmint toothpaste on her breath, and a bit of pine that clung on all of us from living in the cabins.

"Nobody I know. Oh, except maybe my friend Brianna. She fell asleep on the beach once and the tropical storm siren went off. We couldn't wake her up for anything; we had to carry her inside."

"Sounds like this kid I met in juvie. Almost every morning he fell asleep in his oatmeal. Someone switched his oatmeal with soup once. He almost burned his face but he _still _didn't wake up." We laughed for a few minutes and she pushed her hair out of her face. It hung free down her back now. I guess I'm not very good at estimations - I never imagined it was that long when she wore it tied up, but it actually fell almost to her waist. I had the bizarre urge to feel it, but I fought it. Instead, I ran my fingers through my own hair. I could feel where my dark brown roots were growing in; it was softer there and it felt weird against my fingers. I wrinkled my nose.

"I need to dye it again soon," I muttered.

"Didn't you just dye it a few days ago?" she asked.

"Yeah, but all I could find was temporary, and that shit washes out fast."

"I know that's the truth. I tried to dye my bangs blue once. One day in the water and that stuff was long gone," Bridgette laughed.

"Maybe it's for the best. You look really good with just the natural look." I tried to shrug it off as an offhanded compliment, but I actually really meant it – Bridgette was one of the few girls I'd ever met that looked really, really good without any makeup on.

"Thanks," she grinned. "Although sometimes I think the pierced, dyed-hair look would suit me, too." She reached over and lightly tapped the ring going through my eyebrow.

"Well, I can't say that you wouldn't look hot. You've got a pretty face. You could pull pretty much anything off, doll."

"Wow. People don't usually tell me I'm pretty. Most people just see me as, well, one of the guys."

"Well, I think you're pretty," I shrugged, carving a bit more at the wood in my hands without really looking at it or her. I felt her arms around my neck and I looked up in surprise. It wasn't really the type of person that people just suddenly hug. I wasn't quite sure what I was supposed to do, so I just sort of rested my hand on her arm until she let go. Even after she did, I could still smell all of the scents that followed her. I felt a bit dizzy.

"You're not half-bad yourself. You know, for a delinquent," she teased, and then she turned her head to the side. "Sounds like my roommates finally shut up. I'll see you tomorrow, Duncan."

"Yep," I nodded, and watched as she climbed up the steps to the girls' cabin, kept watching long after she shut the door. Finally, I glanced down at the wood in my hands, and was surprised to see that what had started out as a skull had changed completely.

While distracted, I had somehow carved a heart.

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